All that glitters
by DamnHyper
Summary: I told him "No, don't go". But did he listen? Of course not, little brothers never do.   When perfect sister Cashmere wins the Games, Gloss decides to follow in her footsteps for his one shot at fame and a life lived in luxury. But is that all to a Victor's life? 2 sided POV, some mature chapters included.
1. In your shadow

**Let me stand beside you, for once.**

Chapter 1: In your shadow

I don't know what's up with Cashmere. Ever since she won the 66th Hunger Games, she's been even meaner than usual lately. Our parents are constantly showering praise upon her- bringing our family honour and wealth blah blah blah. We're finally free of working in the jewellery shop so I guess that's why they're so darned happy.

Cashmere and I weren't always like this. One lifetime ago, we were inseparable. The best of friends. Then when Cashmere turned seven, my parents started training her. After school, when we completed our homework, we would play together, hours of fun. No more of that. She would disappear with Mother and Father to our basement for hours at a time leaving me sad and lonely. Her whole personality changed too. Gone was the sister who would tickle me and help me with my homework. She would concentrate so fiercely on her work that it scared me and said I 'needed to solve my own problems' whenever I asked her for help. Never again did she let me call her 'Cash', my nickname for her. Bit by little bit, I lost her.

Of course, when I reached seven years of age, Mother and Father took me down to the basement where we kept several types of weapons to train. At nine years, Cashmere was already an expert on throwing daggers and tried to teach me how but she got frustrated at my slowness. This made me want to impress her so I trained as hard as I could but she would never be satisfied. Father taught me how to use a bow and arrow and Mother practiced fencing with me. My parents and Cashmere seemed to consider this as 'family bonding'. Well, maybe Cashmere did grow a lot closer to the family but it was just the opposite for me. I no longer felt any warmth for her so I concentrated on training myself.

Then last year, when Cashmere volunteered to be in the Games, I actually feared for her. I was ecstatic to see her return, alive and well but I think saw a flash of fragility in her eyes for a split second, like she might break anytime. Then the hard and confident look came back.

Occasionally I wondered if being a Victor was really so worthwhile. Sometimes, Cashmere would vanish without a trace for the weekend and come home suddenly, late at night. If I looked through a crack in her room, I could see she was quietly sobbing away, clutching her stomach. Sometimes I wanted to come in and comfort her but I abstained from doing so. Let her solve _her_ own problems. Yes. Over time, I had come to hate her. Hate her for abandoning me. Hate her for changing so much. Hate her for being our parent's favourite. They never did love me as much as Cashmere. I'm sure they love her even more, winning the Games so we live in a splendid house in the Victors Village.

I don't train now that she's a victor but we still have our training weapons and what my parents don't know is that I still train. Train that maybe sometime very soon, I'll be strong enough to go for the Games and prove to Cashmere I'm as good as her.


	2. Chance

**Chapter 2: Reaping Day**

Today is Reaping Day. Today is when I prove to Cashmere I'm as good as her. But first, before I utter the two words, "I VOLUNTEER!" I have to get ready.

Mulling over the many suits in closet, I wonder which one I should wear. I'm not one for fashion, unlike Cashmere, but I have to make sure I'm the first to run to the stage and still look good. In the end I choose a traditional black suit and put so much gel in my hair it shines. A boy named Gloss _should _have glossy hair shouldn't he?

I choose black running shoes so I can make my way to the stage as fast as possible. I'm wondering who the mentors will be this year, hopefully not Cashmere, when, talk of the devil; she appears behind me in the mirror.

"Thinking of volunteering, Gloss dearest?" she asks, her flawless face marred by a scowl. She is wearing a strapless black gown with a V-neck that plunges down to her bellybutton, her golden hair in waves that frame her face, green eyes narrowed like a cat's.

Before I can answer, she spits out, "Don't! You're better off where you are now." I raise my eyebrows. "Is this a scheme to stop me from stealing the limelight?" "_No!_ Being a Victor isn't what it's all cracked up to be!" "Oh yeah, like living in a house with three stories, six bedrooms, and a _garden_, something you always wanted isn't all it's cracked up to be. Stop bluffing, Cashmere, you just don't want me to be a Victor. Well too bad! I'm going to volunteer, and there's nothing you can do about it. _Nothing._" I savour the last word as I neatly sidestep her and walk out. Cashmere's face contorts in anger but do I see some kind of desperation in her eyes? "Fine! You know what? You can volunteer for all I care and I hope you die!"

Ouch. My own sister just told me she wished I'd die in the Hunger Games. But I tell myself she's just being selfish and head to the Town Square.

The Town Square is already bustling with people who are agitated with excitement. I make my way over the seventeen year olds section; most of their faces are fixed with a grim determination. Although it is not their last year, they know they must act quickly, or lose their chance forever. "Hey." a barrel-shaped boy with dirty blond hair that falls into his eyes elbows me as he shuffles forward, "Aren't you Cashmere Ebony's brother? Last year's victor?" I hate how I'm being mentioned now. No longer am I Gloss Ebony, I am now Cashmere Ebony's brother. But not for long. Soon, my name will stand alone when I win this year's Games and it will be a name that people associate with honour, not the sibling of a victor, forever in their shadow. "I prefer to go by Gloss, thank you. Not Cashmere's brother." I hiss at him icily. In turn, he flashes me a lazy grin. "Sure, whatever... Cashmere's brother." I wrinkle my nose at him. He probably comes from the poorer parts of District One, the _slums_. Ugh, just saying the word itself makes me feel dirty. The minority of District One's people who live in the slums mine for jewels and get paid very little. The middle class folks make jewellery in the factories and high ends run the shops.

Mayor Tassel is droning out the Speech in a bored monotonous voice. He, like everybody else, has heard this speech so many times even the little children can recite it perfectly. And of course, he wants to get the Reaping started. "And…that…is…why…the Hunger Games…exist." A cheer erupts from the crowd once he has finished and our escort, Garcia Lentils bounds onto the stage, looking as freakish as ever with her purple skin and green leaves wig. "HELLO DISTRICT ONE!" she bellows, deafening me and many others in the front row, "ARE YOU READY?" her cry brings out a cacophony of shrieks ranging from "YES!" to "Shut up, you crazy woman and reap the tributes already!"

"All right! Let's get to it!" plunging her hand into the reaping ball of the girls eligible for the Hunger Games and swirling the bits of paper around for effect, she finally pulls a slip out and crows, "Gossamer Rice!" and a long, lean girl with blonde hair cascading down her back from the fifteens section sashays onto stage wiggling her hips, inviting several catcalls from the Peacekeepers. "Would anybody like to volunteer?" Garcia calls out. Several girls start clamouring over each other in an attempt to get to the stage first when I spot a tiny fourteen year old with black hair in a pixie cut squeeze her way to the stage, smiling smugly. _She's sneaky, but smart. She'll be a good ally but I'll have to kill her early._ I think to myself. "What's your name, sweetie?" asks Garcia, kneeling down to hold the microphone to the girl. She snatches the microphone and says in a voice so cold it makes me shudder, "Iridescent Fletcher. The victor of this year's Hunger Games."

"Well…okay. Cool name. Now, time for our boy tribute!" stutters Garcia, obviously unnerved by the girl. I put myself in a running stance. This is it. Garcia bends down and unfolds the slip of paper… "Caden Lasso!" and the slum boy beside me goes pale. He slowly mounts the stage, shoulders stiff, a tear rolling down his cheek. The boys around me and laughing at what a pathetic excuse of a tribute he is when I spot my chance and scream, "I VOLUNTEER!" Caden breathes an audible sigh of relief as I march up the stairs three at a time, pumping my arms. The look on Cashmere's face is priceless. Her mouth is open in a silent scream, as if to say, "_How DARE you disobey me?"_ and her face is twisted in a mixture of anguish and horror.

"Your name, handsome?" "Gloss Ebony," I say, ignoring the not-so-hushed whispers of "Cashmere Ebony's brother? Selfish boy, already lives in the Victor's Village and still wants more." Oh thanks a lot District One, you practically ruined my chances of getting sponsors. I turn around and give them the finger. Then grabbing the microphone from Garcia, I yell, "Whether you like it or not, I'm winning! Get the hell over it." "Ooh, have we some competition here? Between the tributes and the siblings! Don't want your sister to steal all limelight do you?" coos our idiotic and melodramatic escort. I can see the camera shift to Cashmere who is now giving me a death stare. I make a face at her.

The Peacekeepers herd us into the Justice Building, I am led into a room with plush royal blue walls, velvet blue sofa stitched together with golden thread and a royal blue carpet with fine strands of gold fringe. First, my family, excluding Cashmere, walks in. Father presses a golden belt adorned with diamonds into my palm. I recognise it as Cashmere's token, she wore the belt to the Games last year. I remember how she slit the throat of her supposed 'lover' while they were sleeping in the cave of the rainforest half naked and lips locked together. I remember how the blood spurted all over her and the belt, the sense of betrayal in boy's eyes. Suddenly, a wave of nausea nearly makes its way up my throat, like the ghost of the boy has cursed the belt, condemning me to death._ Idiot!_ _Ghosts do not exist and you must kill to survive._ I have no idea where I got that thought from, must be all that excitement of going into the Hunger Games.

"Win, or don't come back at all." mutters my father gruffly. It's the same thing he said to Cashmere last year. "Oh, I'm so happy! Our family is going two victors!" cries my mother, half-sobbing, half laughing into her orange handkerchief which contrasts starkly with the blue interior of the room, the way my future life as a victor will be as different as to now as orange is to blue.

**A/N Here's Chapter 2！I hope you like it, it took me a while to get to this story because I was kind of wrapped up planning arenas and deaths in my other stories. Sorry！ :):**


	3. Pleasure

**Chapter 3: Pleasure**

He doesn't know. My stupid and naïve little brother Gloss doesn't know. I wish I had told him sooner. The pain of being a victor. No wonder Haymitch Abernathy became a drunk, no wonder Poppy and Klaus turned to morphling. No wonder I find myself going down this route, to a hazy world where pain is nonexistent.

It all started with that District Eight boy, Walter. Had he not fallen in love with me, he wouldn't have died in my hands. I had to play along. Invite him into the Career group; kill the rest in their sleep with him. Then, on that cold and windy night, in the final three, he'd asked me if I'd do one last favour for him, before he died. Still playing the lover angle, I agreed. Snuggled up in the cave, shivering because of the lack of clothes, I pulled out my dagger from its hiding place. It was now or never. My hands shaking, I plunged the dagger right into his throat. The blood spurted right onto me and he awoke screaming in pain. The screams were not what bothered me for the rest of the Games and my life so far though; it was the sense of betrayal that flashed in his bottomless black eyes that asked "_How could you do this to me?"_ before the cannon boomed. I ran. I took his supplies and clothes and simply _ran_. Although it was cold and raining, I couldn't bear to stay in the room as him, to see those eyes still and open but fresh with betrayal and hurt. I ran, from those eyes that would not leave me alone.

Shaking my head, trying to free myself from the past, I reach for the glass of alcohol in front of me. It will cure me of my pains, at least for now. _No! You have to get Gloss back home. You can't get drunk!_

_Fine!_ I mentally snarl at my conscience, trying to block the memories. Getting Gloss back is my number one priority now, as annoying as he is sometimes, I can't bear to lose him, even if winning will grant him a nightmarish life. But still, I need him. As selfish as that sounds, I know it's true. I wonder what's wrong with me. I love Gloss, but my brain is hardwired not to show any affection towards him. I want to protect him, yet my mouth betrays me and says I wish him death. I've never been good with words, unlike Gloss.

_Gloss._ Sweet and loving Gloss turned bitter and hateful by my actions. During training, my parents always told me, "You can't grow too close to anyone. Everybody is your enemy and at some point, you will have to face them and attachment will only bring you down." And like the stupid seven year old I was, I believed them. So I stopped caring for him, made him solve his own problems. In my mind, I thought I was shielding him from all the pain in the world, instead I made him resent me, think I abandoned him. As we grew further apart, I yearned for our old friendship yet I knew it could not be saved. So the only thing I could do was follow my parents' advice and keep him at a distance.

It's my fault, the way everything is now. Gloss hates me, I want our friendship back, he will never open up to me as he did when he was a child, he's on his way to his possible death, where he will never know that his cold and heartless sister still loves him but can't express it, I am a victor and suffering for it, having my body sold to various clients, being sent for photo shoots after photo shoots and being made to smile like nothing in the world could hurt me when I feel everything in my life is crumbling down to tiny bits and ashes.

My mind drifts to my schedule. After the Games end, I will be booked for two weeks straight, sent for three photo shoots for a lad's magazine and have to model for a few lingerie companies and do yet more photo shoots for my own clothing line. I close my eyes tight and imagine floating away from it all, from District One, from Panem, from Snow's clutches and his chilling threats that silence me. The memories come flooding back at me, a wild torrent of fear, guilt and horror. _Why?_ I scream silently at the heavens, _Why me?_

I stare at the glass. It will save me from these demons, the memories, Walter's eyes that still demand an answer, everything. _You can't!_ The same voice hisses in my mind. _But,_ says an old ancient voice, creeping from the darkest corner of my mind, _everyone is allowed to have their pleasures every now and then right?_ _Yes, you're absolutely right. _I agree with the strange voice, _everyone can indulge once in a while… _I continue, as I pick up the glass and down it, succumbing to its promised pleasures, feeling myself drift away from reality...

After all, everyone deserves a break sometimes.

**Hi. I decided to do this Chapter in Cashmere's POV because I was running out of ideas on what to do for Gloss in the train. :s I'm planning to write this story from two different people's perspectives- Cashmere's and Gloss's since a one-sided view is boring. :P So how do you like it? Tell me! Like it, hate it, meh? **


	4. Strangeness

**Chapter Four: Strangeness **

"Ok, let's introduce ourselves. I'm Lucan and this is Cashmere as you might already know, Gloss, and we are your mentors. We are here to help either of you win this year's Games." Says the sandy, shaggy haired hulk of a mentor, Lucan. _No shit, Sherlock._ His face is squarish and there are smile lines around his eyes. He clasps his rough and calloused hands together and grins eagerly, like he's truly concerned about us in the Games. Right. More like he just wants another Victor. But then again, who doesn't? And _I'm_ going to win. Not Iri-whatever-the-heck-her-name-is. I decide to call her Squirt.

"Omigod, I never knew that! Thank you _so_ much for enlightening me.", a razor sharp voice dripping with sarcasm cuts through my thoughts. Squirt is rolling her eyes, her words mirroring my thoughts. What, does Lucan think we're stupid? Seeing her sharing my views on this dad-wannabe makes a tentative smile spread across my face. Squirt returns an impish grin and juts her chin towards Lucan, who is muttering to himself, as if to say _I can't freaking believe he won the Games. He ought to have perished in the bloodbath_. I feel the first flames of a friendship-or an alliance-begin to spark between us. In this case, an alliance of derision against Lucan.

"Um. Yeah. Whatever." mutters Lucan, as if he's a primate, unable to form one comprehensive sentence. Retard. But I guess it's better than the train wreck that is my sister. Usually immaculate Cashmere's mascara is smudged, giving her strange panda eyes, her dress is slightly unzipped, stopping only where further would give Lucan a show and her hair is rumpled, like she'd slammed her head to the table several times. She's staring into space, unhearing, unseeing, uncaring. Her breath reeks of alcohol and the rancid smell of it is like acid to my nose, burning. I curl my lip in disgust. Here I am, in the face of probable death, and she just sits there, zoning out? Some mentor she is. But at the same time, a smug forms, unexpectedly. Guess Little Miss Perfect ain't so perfect after all. And I'd always thought she was my pure-but-unfriendly older sister. Seeing her like this may as well be seeing a whole new side to her, unfamiliar, thrilling, and yet somewhat…disturbing? She looks like a different person in her current state.

"All righty mighty, let's get down business." Lucan gleefully rubs his hands, like he finally thought of something clever to say. Not.

"So what are you specialities?" he inquires his eyes big and round as the eggs on his plate. "Pretty much anything small," says Squirt, gesturing to her slight figure. He smiles and turns to me, "What about you Gloss?" I shrug. I know every weapon in the field better than the back of my hand but I tend to gravitate towards the larger ones. I say "Opposite of Squirt."

Lucan starts to compliment how compatible we are as a duo when Squirt interrupts and says, mock-shocked, "Ex-cah-usah moi, I have a name too. Iridescent or Iri for short. _So_ not Squirt"

I laugh and say, "Whatever, Iri"

Lucan starts to ask us about tactics when Cashmere _finally_ springs to life, the slowpoke, with an idea. "Seduce them." She says, with a certainty in her voice. She should be, as that was how she won hers. "Seduce them _all_" she continues, casting a look at Lucan whose cheeks are getting redder than I thought they ever could. She wraps an arm around his neck and licks his stubble, revealing a bit more than she probably intended to, making Garcia gasps loudly and start sputtering Character Education nonsense. It both amuses me and disturbs me at the same time. She's practically lying on the table, slobbering over his facial hair, a man who's more than _twice_ her age.

She catches Garcia gaping in outrage and swoops to her side. "I'm so sorry Garcia, for my behaviour" she cajoles. Then. She. Air. Kisses. Her. With. A. Loud. Smack, leaving her dumbfounded. She shocks me again when she leans down and kisses my head and strokes Iri's cheek and announces, "I'm not hungry anymore, I'm going to change out of this death trap. Care to help Lukie?" she giggles suggestively.

"Uh. Sure. Why not?" Lucan mumbles, his dilated pupils clouded with obvious lust.

Garcia's not the only one gaping at this sudden swerve of events. Two other mouths have joined her in the silent choir.

Lucan stands up and says, "I'm off to help Cashmere…with whatever she wants. You kids be good with Garcia alright?"

With that, he guides unsteady Cashmere to her room and shuts the door. I can hear a drunken giggle that sounds like "Oh, Daddy!" and some thumps against the wall and a series of awkward noises than sound awfully like moans of pleasure. Changing clothes my ass.

Iri and I try and stifle our snickers while exchanging bewildered glances at each other. Garcia gets flustered and asks us to go to the dining room and give them some "privacy"

As I polish off the remains of my once food-laden plate, I wonder if Lucan and Cashmere were really drunk or if there is something more to this. Garcia announces the train will be arriving shortly and sends us to our rooms. I duck into mine, avoiding Cashmere's room where the song of "noises" is still ongoing. I distract myself with thoughts of winning the Games as I change- for real.

_Don't care about your sister's love life. Concentrate on winning the Games. You're here to bring honour to your district, not publish racy articles. Why bother anyway? It's none of your business._

"Yeah it isn't" I murmur out loud. But I still can't help but wonder.


End file.
